


Advenio Ad Inferias

by maybemalapert (laconicisms)



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, post 2x05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-14 04:44:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11200695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laconicisms/pseuds/maybemalapert
Summary: I arrive, brother, for these wretched funeral rites.





	Advenio Ad Inferias

It's the way his hands smell, days later still, of earth and loam and rotting wood. The weight he feels on his empty arms like a ghostly imprint. He'd sent Maze away, could not bear her callousness, but it had left him with the task of…

He'd taken the car, had driven past the city limits, deep into the woods. In retrospect, he couldn't believe he hadn't been stopped by some busybody policeman. His convertible was not inconspicuous, was not a suitable replacement for a hearse. Not made for winding, woody paths, either, so he'd had to walk the rest of the way, the weight heavier with every step, his burden soaking with the tears running down his face.

These emotions, these human feelings, first he welcomes them in a way. The pain of it, especially; the way they crush his heart, make his throat burn, make him wish he could undo it all. It's far, far less than he deserves. 

And then he drinks to forget, and he buries himself in every scent of every willing body he can find, but nothing drowns out the smell of...

Earth, loam, rotten wood.

And he doesn't want these emotions anymore, this humanity, but it continues to creep up on him, flashing bright at the swish of a coat, at the looks his mother gives him, at the way Amenadiel's jaw clenches and he turns away, and then also at nothing, nothing at all.

The sobs start shaking out of him as if they would never stop. Hitching, wrecking… cutting off the air from his lungs. His eyes burn, and he blinks and blinks and cannot stop the wash of tears regardless, cannot stop the image of a hole in the ground, in a forest, in the night. Cannot unfeel the weight on his arms, and the way everything smells of earth and loam.

And wood, rotten to the core.

**Author's Note:**

> Title and summary based on Catullus 101, the elegy to his brother.
> 
>  
> 
> Unbetaed, my apologies. I'm dealing with the death of a beloved pet.


End file.
